Writing can be hard for me, but I feel compelled to continue. To find thoughts that draw pictures and sentences that explain thoughts. To offer intrigue, comfort, and hope. To trigger memories. Maybe sometimes sadness and traumas. Because all of these make up and include life. Astounding and compelling life. The same life that we give thanks for. -Mandy Ricks
Evening rolls in, softly, gently, a soothing reprieve.
And as the leaves turn and drop with graceful harmony so does my need to please.
-Mandy Ricks
Do small things with great love.
Your place in my life has finally set me free to stop hating.
-Mandy Ricks
I began to write poems when I was a child. Late at night, in bed, alone with my pen.
My mother and her partner would drunkenly fight and I would write about horses and sunshine.
-Mandy Ricks
Is it the rain that makes me sad or is it the ache of emptiness that once was you?
Perhaps I just need to wait for the sun to return and warm my thoughts.
-Mandy Ricks
To me, you are simply one of those gorgeous things that was made
to do what it does perfectly, and to last, as almost nothing does, forever.
Listen to me or not, it matters little. I’m not trying to be wise. I’m a mere reflection of your dreams. -Mandy Ricks
All of us have a piece of wild that lives in our soul.
Keep it.
Treasure it.
Love it.
Because it will protect you during war.
-Mandy Ricks
Fall: Where summer’s promises start to break as fast as they were made.
Regrets cling like early evenings watching the sun say goodbyes.
The heat of day starts turning to a dark coolness promising more.
Have we really aged as much as our hearts feel worn or is it just another summer gone in a pile of selfies and beach days?
See you again next year.
I have spent too many years with my heart and legs open, hoping to find love, and to please, but only finding hypocrisy. -Mandy Ricks
Perfection is the enemy of done.
Mandy Ricks 